How the Binch Stole Bandmas
by ILoanADogma
Summary: Well, I've always said that the title is self-explanatory. Written as a b-day present, quite amusing really. If you're in that wonderful, Christmasy band mood, this is for you! ;-)
1. Default Chapter

This one's for you Shannyn, since I didn't have any money to buy you an actual birthday present. ;-)  
  
How the Binch TRIED to Steal Bandmas  
  
From Diana, to Shannyn! :-D  
  
********************  
  
The story starts with Lauren and Diana.  
  
"I know, that chem test was so stupid...... memorize the conversion factors my ass-"  
  
Diana's rants were cut short by the sight of her beloved band room. Lauren stood beside her in the doorway, mouth gaping and eyes bulging. It was quite clear what was causing this reaction.  
  
"MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"  
  
Mr. Zimmerman, the band director, had bounded out from his office with a strange grin on his face. His large santa hat (two sizes too big) sported a big embroidered eighth note, and had an obnoxious tinkling bell on the end. A large, rude-looking santa face was plastered across his knitted sweater, with red lights on the nose and cheeks that lit up when you pressed just the right button. However, that wasn't the scariest thing.  
  
"Green. Green pants. Oh my GOD MY BAND DIRECTOR IS WEARING BRIGHT GREEN PANTS!!!"  
  
Unable to bear it, Lauren turned and ran smack into one of the horn lockers.  
  
"Oww... goddammit...."  
  
Mr. Zimmerman immediately sprang forward to help his fallen student, which involved a lot of odd jingling and red blinking lights. Diana walked forward, carefully stepping over the brightly colored Christmas lights that graced the ceiling, the floor, and the walls......every nook and cranny of the band room. Lauren stood up, brushing the dust bunnies off her pants and squinting at the intense light.  
  
"Ah! Ah've been blinded! Ah can't see!" Lauren wailed, in a crude Pippin imitation accent. Diana marched over to where Mr. Zimmerman stood, whistling and hanging a new set of multi-colored net lights.  
  
"Uh, Mr. Zimmerman, what are you doing?"  
  
The new band director grinned at her.  
  
"Decorating..."  
  
Lauren looked up from her perch on the floor.  
  
"But why?" She said irritably, rubbing her backside.  
  
"Erm, just getting into the spirit you know! The Christmas spirit!"  
  
"Then why are you wearing a kippah and holding a menorah in your left hand?"  
  
"Erm...."  
  
Just then, Sarah B, Shannyn, and Amanda came out of one of the many practice rooms, all three sporting rather large sunglasses.  
  
"Don't ask, trust me, it's very long and complicated," Shannyn sighed.  
  
Amanda leaned in to Diana's ear as Sarah hoisted Lauren up off the floor.  
  
"We think Conaway accidentally dropped his Tuba bell on Z's head...We're not entirely sure though...."  
  
"Blinkin!"  
  
All five students turned.  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"The lights! I made them blink!"  
  
"That's...great Z!" Shannyn said, smiling in a very cheesy manner.  
  
Amanda rolled her eyes, and swiftly unplugged a huge rubber plug (as big as a Tuba!) out from its outlet. All the lights went out. It was pitch black.  
  
"Ah! Ah can't see! Ah've been blinded!"  
  
"Lauren, stop that."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
CRASH! BOOM! "What was that?"  
  
"I don't know!"  
  
"Well don't look at me, I'm only a clarinet player!"  
  
"Idiot, how do you know I'm looking at you if it's dark?"  
  
"Stupid woodwind, now we can't even see!"  
  
SMACK!  
  
"Ow..."  
  
"Serves you right."  
  
"Guys, this isn't getting us anywhere..."  
  
"No, but it made me feel better. I've wanted to smack her for ages...."  
  
Suddenly, a single flashlight was lit, eerily illuminating the face of our heros' band director, santa hat and all.  
  
"Wooo.... I am the ghost of Bandmas Past!"  
  
The five students looked at him skeptically.  
  
"No you're not..."  
  
Mr. Zimmerman's arms flailed wildly.  
  
"WoOoOo! Yes I am!"  
  
Five voices answered him.  
  
"NO YOU'RE NOT!"  
  
The end of Mr. Z's santa hat drooped.  
  
"Alright, I'm not, fine. But he is."  
  
The silvery apparition that had been standing behind him waved.  
  
"AHHHHHHHH!!!!!! A GHOST! RUUUNNN!!!"  
  
CRASH! BOOM! BREAK! SPLINTER! OWIE!  
  
"Oops..."  
  
"Don't worry Sarah, those cymbals were crap anyway...."  
  
"Ach! Don't call me a ghost, lass! Ah'm a spirit, an' callin' me that would will do jus' fain."  
  
The 'spirit' pointed a silvery finger at Lauren.  
  
"'An yer accent be terrible. Stick ter ye English."  
  
The five friends, including Mr. Zimmerman, stared in awe at the ancient, apparently Irish spirit in front of them. He was dressed as sensibly as a spirit could, with walking trousers topped by a practical woolen coat. He had horn-rimmed spectacles with which he was peering through intensely at them all, and a walking stick with a carved fox's head gracing the top.  
  
Sarah was the first to stop cowering. She walked right up to the spirit and stuck a finger through his nose.  
  
"Ah beg yer pardon?!?"  
  
"Sorry, was just giving you a finger poke."  
  
A grunt of 'Americans' was partially heard.  
  
"So, are you like going to take us through the past and show us everything we did wrong with our lives, then ditch us so another ghost thing can pick us up and do it again? Then by the time we're done bring us back and we'll be changed individuals?"  
  
The spirit flinched, and looked at Shannyn with surprise.  
  
"O course not, where's the poin' in that? Stupid, 's what that tis. You bin watchin' too much TV."  
  
"Oh. Well then, what are you doing here?"  
  
The spirit raised himself up, and stuck out his silvery chest, gesturing wildly with his old walking stick.  
  
"Ah've bin sent tah warn ye! Grave danger lies ahead!"  
  
The dramatic proclamation was lost on our heroes.  
  
"Eh, so what? We live in grave danger every, what with being near the trumpet section..." SMACK.  
  
"Ow."  
  
Diana wriggled her nose.  
  
"Copycat."  
  
"'Ave ye bin listenin tah wot Ah've bin sayin??? Grave danger! WoOoOoO!"  
  
"And what, pray tell, does this 'danger' entail?"  
  
The spirit stopped.  
  
"Eh...potatoes?"  
  
"Nope. Try again."  
  
"The guard eequipmen'! 'S gonnae be stolen!"  
  
Shannyn perked up.  
  
"Stolen? By who?"  
  
"Eh... dunno. Ye can' expect wee spirit's tah know everythin'..."  
  
With one last glance at them all, the spirit gave a grave nod, and disappeared in a swirling vapor of mist.  
  
The lights came back on.  
  
"Boy. That was weird."  
  
Mr. Zimmerman went back to hanging his lights.  
  
"You know, maybe we better check on the guard equipment? Just to make sure it's there?"  
  
"Shannyn, it's 3:13, tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and tonight's our concert. There is no pyscho running around stealing guard equipment. If we pursue said maniac, I will miss my bus. This is bad."  
  
Sarah swung an arm around Diana's shoulders.  
  
"Ah perk up! If you miss it I'll take you home. My mom's picking me up."  
  
Diana shifted uneasily.  
  
"Ok."  
  
So the five friends walked out of the band room, leaving Mr. Z whistling 'Sleigh Ride' to himself. Lauren locked the band door behind them.  
  
"So he doesn't leave and hurt himself or something." She explained, under the questioning looks of the others. 


	2. chapter' 2

They walked down to the storage room quite easily, seeing as the hallways were pretty much deserted. They found, to their surprise, that the storage room door was unlocked. In fact, it was partially open.  
  
Shannyn raced inside.  
  
"NOOOOOOOO!"  
  
Sarah was able to catch her just as she fell.  
  
"What is it? What?"  
  
Lauren gazed open-mouthed at the storeroom.  
  
"It's gone..."  
  
"What, the guard equipment? That's no big deal, I mean, we have 'til summer to get it back..."  
  
"No."  
  
Diana furrowed her brows.  
  
"Well what then?"  
  
A dramatic spotlight zoned in on Lauren as all other lights dimmed. A single tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
"The equipment.... Percussion.... The uniforms... The hat boxes.... My god, even the megaphone and Dr. Beat!"  
  
She fell to her knees.  
  
"It's all gone."  
  
The lights returned, as the band members stood rooted to the spot.  
  
"All gone?" Amanda whispered. "But how? And our concert's tonight! What are we going to do?!?"  
  
BRRRIIIIIIIIINNNNGGGGG!  
  
Classroom doors flew open, and a seething mass of humanity began to sweep through the school. The teenagers of Bellefonte High all walked past the five frozen individuals, and happily made their way home through the snow.  
  
Two people, however, caught sight of the five, and came over with a concerned look on their faces.  
  
"Hey you guys, you look like Erin just tied ten-pound rice bags to your horns, what's-"  
  
Joy stopped short as she caught the site of the empty band room.  
  
"Joy, what's wrong? Why is-HOLY MOTHER OF CHEESE INFESTED TRUMPET VALVES!"  
  
Tom looked from the fainted form of Shannyn to the vast emptiness of the storage room.  
  
"Where's all the stuff?!?!"  
  
The five snapped out of their daze.  
  
"We don't know! This ghost thing came and was Irish and had a stick and-"  
  
"-Z had a lot of Christmas lights-"  
  
"-said grave danger, WOOOOOOO!!! Guard equipment and-"  
  
"-Had a big stick! Irish and made fun of me-"  
  
"- You should see Z's pants!"  
  
The last statement caused everyone to stop.  
  
"Uh... yeah. Well, I suppose we better start looking. Some of us need those uniforms for districts!"  
  
"Well said Joy!"  
  
And so, full of hope and vengeance, the seven friends stomped back off to the band room to prepare for their search for the band equipment. And to make sure Z didn't break anything while they were away.  
  
Meanwhile, in a deserted classroom that was very near the roof of the school, the Binch cackled insanely as he gathered the band equipment around him with glee.  
  
"Heehee! Those little bandies will never be able to celebrate their Christmas concert now, see! I have all their things, percussion, uniforms, and I even stole all the instruments! Ha, I bet they haven't even figured that out yet, stupid bandies! Finally, I will no longer be tormented by the melody of Sleigh Ride EVER AGAIN!"  
  
The Binch went crosseyed as he gazed through a small hole in the wall which allowed him to view the stage in the auditorium.  
  
"Every year it's the same thing! Sleigh Ride Sleigh Ride SLEIGH RIDE! I simply cannot STAND the out of tune clarinets, even the stupid jazz section of the song! Every year it's the SAME THING! Ever since I came to live here, 29 years ago..."  
  
The binch clasped his hands over his eyes, vividly remembering how he had come to be. 


	3. chappie 3

*************************  
  
"Hey everyone, I'm Mr. Cree, and I'm your new director!"  
  
The band let out a mighty cheer as they welcomed the young man, who was beaming with pleasure and had enthusiasm leaking out of his ears. Only, there was one who wasn't happy about this change.  
  
"What happened to Mr. Munnell? Why did he leave?"  
  
Mr. Cree surveyed the speaker carefully.  
  
"Well, uh... Tedd Binch, isn't it? You see, Mr. Munnell was only teaching for a year. He wasn't going to be a permanent teacher. I am."  
  
Tedd Binch scowled.  
  
"Well I don't like you."  
  
Mr. Cree grinned.  
  
"I don't like you either. There, it's mutual now. Feel better?"  
  
Binch sank down in his chair under the laughing eyes of eighty other band members. He gripped the edges of his flute angrily.  
  
"Stop it! Stop laughing at me!"  
  
The gales continued, and Binch stood up.  
  
"STOP LAUGHING AT ME!"  
  
But they didn't stop. In fact, if anything, the laughter increased in volume, and many people were even pointing at him as well as laughing. It was too much.  
  
"I HATE YOU ALL! I'M LEAVING! I HATE YOU, MR. CREE, I HATE THIS BAND, AND I HATE THIS STUPID SLEIGH RIDE SONG! NONE OF US ARE IN TUNE WHEN WE PLAY IT!"  
  
And with that, Tedd Binch stormed out of the band room and smashed his flute against the wall.  
  
The entire band gasped, and stared at the mangled instrument that lay on the floor, not knowing exactly what to do.  
  
Binch ran from the band room, and headed for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. His main intention was to head for the roof, a place of solitude and quiet. However, something caught his eye on the way up.  
  
"What's this? Looks like a forgotten room...."  
  
Binch tore off some old planks, and stepped inside, never to be seen again.  
  
********************************  
  
29 years later the Binch still lived in that tiny room, observing all the comings and goings of the fine arts department. He gazed upon drama, listened grudgingly to the choir, and scoffed at the attempts of the orchestra. But he always, always stared with hate upon the man who had cast him from all of bandom. Mr. Cree...  
  
The Binch watched as Cree's students grew up and graduated, and as his black hair gave way to gray and tiny, tiny flecks of white. For 29 years he vowed revenge, but never did anything. Until now.  
  
The Binch patted the bass drum next to him fondly.  
  
"Oh yes, we will show them, we will show them all! Ha, they can't have a Christmas concert with no equipment..."  
  
And so the Binch sat, laughing, not knowing that his enemy wasn't even there anymore.  
  
****************************  
  
Back in the band room, pandamonium broke out.  
  
"THE INSTRUMENTS! THEY'RE ALL GONE!"  
  
Six of the band students fell to the floor, crying over their lost ones.  
  
Amanda gazed up through her tears.  
  
"Diana, why aren't you crying? You'd the most upset I'd imagine."  
  
Diana grinned.  
  
"You think I wouldn't have put safety measures around my horn? Please, I just got it! No one's taking THIS Buffet!"  
  
She undid the nine padlocks on her band locker, and to everyone's amazement a keypad slid out from the inside. Diana punched in a code, and stood back.  
  
"Behold! The latest in instrument protection technology!"  
  
The six friends gazed in awe as the locker gave way to tunnel, that grew and grew until it was almost the size of seven locker widths! Everyone peered down the end of the tunnel to see a dimly lit room. In the middle of the room was a podium. And on the podium sat a clarinet case. Around this podium was situated six attack dogs. All German Shepards. And one particulary vicious yellow lab.  
  
Diana smiled, and closed everything up. Ten minutes later everyone was still staring at the tiny locker that had been a secret room just a few minutes ago.  
  
"Well then...." Diana cleared her throat.  
  
"Oh yes, the instruments...."  
  
Shannyn thought for a moment.  
  
"Well, you don't necessarily need instruments and music to have a Christmas concert, right?"  
  
Amanda looked at her as if she were insane.  
  
"Uh... YES, you kind of need band instruments to have a band concert."  
  
"No no, listen to this!"  
  
Even Mr. Zimmerman was interested after Shannyn had unveiled her scheme 


	4. chaapite 4

The Binch was busy making preparations as the hour of the concert drew near. Boy, was he going to enjoy himself!  
  
He had set up his special mocking chair, (which he had stolen from the faculty lounge five years prior) and was currently making some popcorn. It was difficult manuevoring around all the band things, but he didn't mind. He looked through his hole down to the stage, where all the fun was to happen.  
  
Smirking, he sat down, and watched as some hard-core parents began to fill the auditorium.  
  
********************  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to welcome you to the 2003 Bellefonte combined Christmas concert!"  
  
The applause that followed was enthusiastic.  
  
"Right, now let's get down to business. We have a special treat for you folks tonight. Rather than having a traditional concert, we're going to do something a little different."  
  
From his perch, the Binch watched in confusion as students from all three ensembles filed on stage with nothing in their hands. They lined up in rows.  
  
Mr. Zimmerman stood in front of them, his podium having been stolen. He began to clap his hands in a fast tempo. He turned to the audience.  
  
The audience immediately picked it up, clapping along until the entire auditorium was filled with the tempo.  
  
The Binch scratched his head at this new man, who was he? Where was his enemy, Mr. Cree? He must be sick or something, that's it.  
  
Mr. Zimmerman turned back to the students, and pointed at the first row. They all pulled out Santa hats, identical to the one Mr. Z had been wearing earlier. They began to shake the bells on the end in a steady eighth note pattern along to the clapping.  
  
Mr. Z then cued the second row, and they began to stomp their feet in a certain pattern.  
  
Da Da Daaah! Da da Daaah! Da da Daaah!  
  
It sounded almost like a bass line...  
  
The Binch continued to watch as the third and fourth rows began to whistle, WHISTLE, a familiar melody. The Binch's face grew red when he realized what it was. He so enraged, that he almost missed it when the final two rows of choir members started to sing.  
  
"Let's hear those sleigh bells jing-ga-ling, ring-ting-ting-aling too...."  
  
The Binch was at a loss for words. He hadn't stopped their concert from coming, it came! With no instruments, no music, and he was to blame.  
  
He chanced another glance down, to see that the students had finished, and the audience was applauding tremendously. Then a single man with graying hair flecked with tiny, tiny spots of white stood up.  
  
Everyone else followed suit, until the orchestra, choir, and band members had a full standing ovation.  
  
Up near the ceiling, the Binch was shocked. Mr. Cree, out there in the audience?  
  
Suddenly, something inside the Binch melted. It now seemed quite foolish that he had held such a grudge for so long. He'd caused so much trouble, and for no good reason! He had to make it up, somehow...  
  
The students on stage took another bow, and were just about to exit when a clattering noise from outside the auditorium made everyone turn and stare. There, riding their three missing pit carts, came the Binch, loaded with all the equipment and instruments that he had stolen. He rode the carts all the way down the aisles, and stopped right at the stage.  
  
Getting off the cart, he walked awkwardly over to Mr. Cree.  
  
"Uh... Mr. Cree.... I....er.....sorryIactuallyreallylikedyou."  
  
Mr. Cree grinned.  
  
"Tedd Binch, is that you?"  
  
"Yessir, am very sorry."  
  
The entire auditorium let out a big "Awwww!" as the two embraced.  
  
The students all scrambled to the carts, eager to have their things back, as Mr. Cree pulled something long out of his coat pocket.  
  
"Here Tedd, I've been saving it all these years. It was the first one I ever fixed, you know."  
  
Tedd gazed in awe as Mr. Cree held out his flute, flawless and as gleaming as the very first day he had brought it home. Not a scratch was on it. No indicator that it had ever been brutally slammed against a concrete wall. "Yeah... sorry about that." Tedd mumbled.  
  
"It's alright, Tedd. Though, if I'm not mistaken, you're still a senior even after 29 years. You haven't graduated yet."  
  
Tedd blushed.  
  
"But don't worry, I'll be there when you do."  
  
Tedd beamed as the entire fine arts department welcomed him once again into their band-like embrace.  
  
*********************  
  
Rolling her eyes, Ashley Rogers gave Scott a playful punch on the shoulder.  
  
"You never get tired of that story, you do?"  
  
Scott grinned.  
  
"Nope!" He looked around at the sleeping freshmen, who were exhausted after the morning of band camp work.  
  
"It was always my favorite as a freshman." Jenn Grubb added.  
  
"I think it was everyone's favorite."  
  
Michael grinned.  
  
"Yes, just another one of those stories, passed on through senior to freshman. I remember when we were freshmen."  
  
"Yeah, we were so stupid then."  
  
"Who you kidding? We still are!"  
  
And so everyone laughed as they walked outside into the August heat to begin yet another afternoon of hard work, teaching others, and passing on important traditions that have lasted and will last for decades to come.  
  
Happy Birthday Shannyn! 


End file.
